


All That Remains (Drifter AU)

by artisan447



Series: Drifter foundation series [3]
Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drifter, M/M, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:57:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artisan447/pseuds/artisan447
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezra had let Chris Larabee in closer than anyone in quite some time. Was it so outrageous to expect his lover to show a little concern for his safety?</p><p>Second story in the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/8859">Drifter AU series</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All that remains

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows directly after the events of [Drifter ](http://ms-artisan.livejournal.com/51102.html).
> 
> Many thanks to everyone who contributed, especially to [**istia**](http://istia.dreamwidth.org/) for editing, guidance and chat, and [**farad**](http://farad.dreamwidth.org/) and [**siluria**](http://siluria.dreamwidth.org/) for reminding me how much I love this AU. :)

Ezra was tired. His head ached and monitoring code as it cycled was about as interesting as watching Barani flies in Spring.  


`--- auto-run complete. Please initiate next data sequence ---`

  


A soft completion tone accompanied the blinking cursor, and he reached out to silence it. He rested his elbow on the metallic surface of the console and leaned forward to review the summary report, checking the results line-by-line to ensure that the data was clean.

It was. He sat back, nodding in satisfaction, then brought up the next segment of database and initiated the start-up process again. Not, it should be noted, that he felt any degree of enthusiasm.

"Don't hurry now," he muttered, eyes glued to the screen, one finger tapping out an impatient beat. "Heaven forbid I should have anything better to do with my time."

The small blue and green, standby lights of the _Clarion's_ control deck consoles winked in a randomly cheerful pattern, mocking the sheer tedium of his task. Along with the dull glow from the LCD screen, they were all that lit the quiet corner where he worked -- completing his task piece by tedious piece, searching methodically through files and data, making a change here, an adjustment there and progressively breaking every connection that had ever existed, no matter how tenuous, between Ezra Standish, respected Senior Advocate, and Edward Smith, unknown emissary and jail-breaking sympathizer.

Another task concluded and he manually re-set the system. Again.

_Could this be more singularly boring?_

The new data set began to scroll and Ezra made a conscious effort to focus. Inattention would lead to mistakes and mistakes were unthinkable, his goal was to undo the day's disasters, not compound them. But just the thought of the day's events triggered a sudden stark flashback of memory. The forbidding, alien cold of the Baultan detention center and the way the guard's eyes had almost glowed in the strange light had been so intimidating that even now an involuntary shiver rippled across his skin. It didn't bear thinking about the ramifications should he and Tanner have been caught, yet that was only the most obvious of his problems.

Chris Larabee's contribution played heavily on his mind, too, and he was still no closer to an understanding of why he would be so desperate to retrieve Vin Tanner that he'd put aside all other concerns. Perhaps he was just that ruthless? It was obvious to anyone who'd known him more than five minutes that Chris would do whatever was necessary to get the outcome he wanted. For the most part, Ezra admired him for it, but then he'd never been on the receiving end of that cold-blooded determination before, been made to feel so ... disposable.

It didn't help that deep down such cavalier disregard didn't fit comfortably with what he'd been starting to feel was between the two of them. Maybe he'd unconsciously read more into their relationship than was actually there; it wouldn't be the first time he'd made that kind of mistake. Closeness wasn't something he'd ever been all that good at, he'd never really learned how, but with Chris he'd started to think... to _feel_...

The truth was, Ezra had let Chris Larabee in closer than anyone in quite some time, so it wasn't just anger he felt now; he was hurt too, and confused. Was it so outrageous to expect his lover to show a little concern for his safety?

The task-completed tone was a welcome interruption to his tortured thoughts and he re-set the process yet again, grateful for the momentary distraction. Chris hadn't even had the decency to return from whatever task had occupied him all day, so it was pointless even dwelling on it. There'd be ample time to sort through the personal ramifications of the day's debacle later; right now, it was far more vital that he focus on the practical aspects of cleaning up the mess.

For another thirty minutes, he managed to shut out all other thoughts and work solidly, the data pad firm under his fingers and only the low background hum of the _Clarion's_ automated systems for company. By the time the overhead lighting finally winked out as the system swapped through its automatic day-to-night cycle, he'd made significant progress.

_Excellent!_ Ezra relaxed for the first time and a grin curved his mouth as he managed to finally conclude the asset retrieval, _at least I get to keep the Sprinter, now if I can just--_

The thought was broken by a clunking sound as one of the large balls of the desk chronometer fell into place and he looked up, startled to see the time.

_Oh, lord, is it really so late?_

His heart tripped into a faster beat and he felt disoriented, until he remembered the longer 26-hour cycle Chris insisted the ship operate on, rather than the 20-hour Galactic Standard.

He frowned and checked his wristwatch. His own timepiece was still synched with local time and showed he had four hours until the Baultans initiated their daily data uplink. He sucked in a breath of relief -- he shouldn't need more than one hour, two at most, to cleanse the system properly and ensure that there'd be no chance of anyone ever connecting his DNA to the law-breaking Edward Smith, and he'd still have enough time to get home for the Advocate's dinner. He'd have to skip debriefing with Chris, but if he were honest with himself, that was more of a bonus than anything else.

"Never again will I deride Government paranoia," he muttered, profoundly grateful for the Baultans' insistence on a degree of autonomy from the Central Galactic Administration. Most systems that joined the Union played by the rules and maintained a live link to the Administration. Only those who were more suspicious, and had the strength to be a threat, ever got away with limiting their connection to a daily upload. The Baultans most definitely fit the bill on both those counts.

Ezra stretched his neck and re-started the file search, but he'd barely begun when he was interrupted yet again, this time by the disturbing bleep of a function alarm. Damn! His hands automatically froze in place and he lifted them carefully away when he saw the error alert on the screen. This was why he always set up a secondary tracking program when he was forced to work manually -- it could identify him heading down the wrong path before his brain even registered the danger.

He scanned the code, backtracked to the last identifiable safe point, and started the sector again. When he was satisfied, he re-activated the auto-run, then rested an elbow on the console and pinched the bridge of his nose. To add to the pain building behind his eyes, his forearms and wrists ached and he'd lost count of the number of places in his back that the muscles knotted tighter than a medlin string.

It was mind-numbingly tedious working via a manual interface, but logging in via his chip wasn't an option. As a result of the fiasco that had been their exit from the holding center, the Baultans _would_ have set flags, and the minute he placed a single digital fingerprint into the system, he'd destroy any chance at all he still had of slipping quietly back into his existing, respectable life.

And no matter what other fallout there might be from today's shambles of an operation, that was one price he absolutely refused to pay. He closed his eyes briefly at the infuriating prospect.

He could do this. It wasn't the first time he'd ever been required to access a data system without using his chip, even if on those other occasions he'd been engaged in the more stimulating task of constructing a persona rather than the dull tedium of dismantling one. Adding data to records, creating a presence where there had previously been none and transferring assets was undoubtedly more stimulating, but this was just the same thing in reverse, even if he'd never before needed to complete such a lengthy or complex task in as highly protected an environment as the Baultan penal system records.

More likely, it was working here, via the _Clarion's_ manual interface system that made him feel the frustration more keenly. When he'd first explained to Casey what he needed, and she'd directed him to the only manual input station on the control deck, the keypad and screen had been dark and silent, showing no sign of life. He'd even had to initialize the system from scratch and establish a network connection. Chances were good he was the only person _ever_, since the ship had been commissioned, to need to endure such absurdity.

One consolation was that he'd instinctively chosen to use one of his more complex personas for this assignment -- without the open data string embedded in the base record, he'd have been helpless to access the files now. At least, barring unforeseen accidents, he'd be able to sanitize the contact and processing records; he'd already had one moment of triumph in retrieving his physical assets and, really, he _was_ almost done.

_Life is just full of small joys_. The internal sarcasm rose unbidden.

Far from deriving any pleasure from his progress so far, each gain, each completed task, chaffed on his nerves like yet another tiny grain of sand irritating soft skin, and he cursed Chris, _again_, for landing him in this mess.

It had started out cathartic, roundly berating Chris in the privacy of his mind; it certainly relieved the anger that had sprung to life fully formed out of his blind sense of betrayal and mistrust. But the satisfaction soon faded.

Truth was, his feelings were more complex than that and his confusion didn't end there. He didn't know what to make of the enigmatic Vin Tanner, either. Ezra mentally replayed, again, their escape from the detention center and that brief but startling kiss on the transporter deck, and his lips tingled with the memory. With scarcely a lift of his shaggy eyebrows, Tanner had turned every preconception Ezra had ever held about the Andarchic on its head and he had no idea what to do with his newfound awareness.

As for Chris, means-to-an-end was undoubtedly his standard modus operandi, but his single-minded determination to free Tanner from the holding center without any other consideration seemed cavalier.

Ezra sucked in a breath and steadied himself against the ache of disappointment. He was self-aware enough to know he was wallowing, but irritated enough not to care, and he hated this feeling of uncertainty, of not knowing exactly where he stood. Why could he never seem to get anything right when it came to personal relationships?

"Hey, Ezra, you're still here!" Casey's voice carried a note of surprise, and Ezra could feel her eyes on him as she came through the door and headed for her usual position at the Systems console.

When the Captain was away from the ship, it fell to her to monitor the _Clarion's_ systems and she took the responsibility seriously. She'd been a constant presence for the entire time he'd been working, aside from the hour of dinner break she'd just allowed herself. But her solicitous offers of help when he'd explained this was a task only he could complete, coupled with her never-ending chatter about Vin Tanner -- the "mysterious" new addition to the ship's complement -- grated on his raw nerves. He schooled his face into an expression of disinterest, and mutely rued the loss of the silence.

"Your perspicacity is astounding," he muttered, not bothering to lift his eyes from the screen or pause the rapid action of his fingers. He did take a moment to enjoy the sarcastic rejoinder, because it felt good to indulge his annoyance and he really wasn't in the mood for conversation.

"My perspi-- what?"

Ezra closed his eyes briefly, stilled his hands, and leaned back in the chair, the innocent question pulling him up short.

_Well, there goes that small pleasure._

It wasn't Casey's fault he'd spent the better part of four hours on the control deck reconstructing his personal records, or that his one enjoyable physical relationship seemed on the verge of crumbling to dust. No, that honor belonged wholly and solely to the absent Chris Larabee, and no matter the temptation, he liked to think he was above taking a swipe at the _Clarion's_ 18-year-old engineer.

"Never mind, Ms Wells." He straightened and raised an eyebrow in her direction. "I imagine it's too much to hope that coffee is for me?"

"Ah, well, seeing as I thought you'd be gone by now---" She looked doubtfully from Ezra to the cup and back again, then held it out. "But you can have it if you want... "

Ezra bit back the acerbic reply that he was fresh out of the kind of miracle that would allow him to go anywhere -- transporting was out of the question until he could legally access the system again and Chris was off gallivanting who-knew-where with the ship's only shuttle -- and instead ran a tired hand around the back of his neck.

"Perhaps not." He flexed his shoulders to try and ease his headache and loosen the stiffness that ran like a tight band across his back. "I imagine you've managed to make it entirely undrinkable."

Casey's chuckle held genuine amusement as she took her seat in the control chair and plopped the cup down beside her. "You haven't had coffee till you've had it with milk and three sugars, Ezra. You don't know what you're missing."

The teasing rejoinder made him feel like a heel for the misdirection of his bad humor and he forced a matching, bantering tone into his voice. "Yet, in this instance, I find myself strangely unmotivated to find out."

The data continued to scroll across the screen and he propped his chin in his hand and rolled a data chip across his knuckles. He did need a break, but the data set was almost finished and he was perversely attached to his irritation. If nothing else, it displaced the painful ache that any thought of Chris Larabee brought.

As soon as he finished this last segment of the database, he'd be done. Then, no matter how much he'd prefer to find out what the hell Chris had been thinking, he'd be much better served transporting back to the midway station and then home in time for the evening Advocate's dinner. He wasn't about to turn tail and run like a frightened rabbit, but it would be better by far to give himself some breathing room and deal with this... friction... between himself and Chris when he'd had time to regroup.

There was an added bonus to that plan, too. Vin Tanner hadn't been joking when he'd promised to catch up with Ezra. The intent had sparkled in his eyes, and chances were good he'd manage it sooner rather than later. And while Ezra was intrigued to find out more about the Drifters, he'd rather not do it until he'd had time to process his own confused reactions to the man.

"You do know how to get yourself into a world of trouble, Ezra Standish," he muttered.

The console gave a welcome beep as the auto-run finished and Ezra straightened with a satisfied sigh. Almost done. One more sector, then he'd be able to access the system without fear of unwelcome identification.

"Casey, if you wouldn't mind starting the transporter re-calibration, I think I'll be ready in about--" he was interrupted by the loud tone of the ship's proximity alarm and Casey turned to him with a wide grin.

"There's the Captain now, you'll have to hold on a minute, Ezra. Won't be doing anything till we have him safely docked."

Ezra checked his watch, torn. He could stay and have this out with Chris now, or leave and go to the dinner. It was in no way compulsory for him to attend, but being seen among his colleagues now, if questions about his activities arose later, could prove invaluable. Of all the things he'd learned in his line of work, the usefulness of a verifiable alibi was close to the top of the list, and what better alibi could there be than a room full of Senior Advocates?

"Ms Wells, I really must--" he began, mind made up, but he didn't manage to finish the sentence before a new alarm sounded and the system locked him out with a cheerful, flashing `[access denied].`

"Uh oh..." Casey's hands moved quickly across the console. "Captain Larabee? Looks like you have an unauthorized passenger. Please confirm your status."

There was a moment of tense silence, then Chris's disembodied voice filled the control deck and Ezra's heart skipped a beat.

"It's just Josiah and me here, Casey. Anything else you're picking up doesn't have any damn business being there."

"Ah, ok. Well, the ship's gone into automatic lockdown -- you want me to maintain, or over-ride?"

"Over-ride for system and general areas, but maintain for everything else, especially the transporter and docking bays. Josiah and I can probably handle it, but you'd better alert Nathan as well." Chris sounded irritated.

"Will do." She scrambled to her feet, activating the internal comm. as she went: "Nathan, you might want to get down to the docking bay, looks like the Captain picked up a stowaway."

Ezra put out a hand as she headed for the door. "Casey..."

"Sorry, Ezra." Her cheeky grin belied the apology. "Won't be doing anything till we have this sorted. I'll be back as soon as we find out who's been stupid enough to pick Captain Larabee's ship for a free ride."

 

*~*~*~*


	2. All that remains

Six-and-a-half steps.

Six if he stepped it out.

He'd lost count of the number of times he'd paced this stretch of floor, but right at this moment, he sure as hell didn't care.

What he did care about was how much longer he'd be forced to waste his time with this absurd inaction. It'd already been -- he checked his wristwatch _again_ \-- forty minutes, and still no update from Casey.

More to the point, less than an hour remained before the Central Administration data upload, and close to the same amount of time before he was meant to be cool, calm and presentable at dinner with a group of the most suspicious people he'd ever had the challenge to know. He really did need to be done now.

He looked over again to where the `[access denied]` message blinked on, then off, then on again, and spun on his heel.

"Ten minutes," he muttered, swiping angrily at the back of the nearest hover-chair. "Ten ridiculous minutes more and I'd have been done."

The chair spun away on an erratic path that stopped only when it hit the console with a soft thump, and Ezra let his head fall back with a groan.

Coffee, he really, really needed coffee. But the thought of taking even that amount of time away was more than he could bear. If the system came back online, ten minutes was literally all he needed, and the ramifications of missing that window were unthinkable.

He ran an agitated hand through his hair and made a conscious effort to stifle his tumultuous emotions. Casey would be back any minute now, or even better still, the system would come back online. There was still enough time.

"You're over-reacting," he said out loud, because it made him feel better to hear even his own voice in the stillness. "Stop being so melodramatic."

He'd reached the far console and was about to turn when a nonchalant drawl from the doorway stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Melodramatic? Doesn't sound like you, Ezra."

He spun around; one hand caught against the console and a data-stick flew away and clattered onto the floor.

"Chris," he acknowledged, forcing an equally casual tone into his voice. His eyes swept the man slouched in the doorway, all sleek lines and unconscious magnetism, and his heart battered away inside his chest like a trapped bird. "I'm afraid Ms Wells is otherwise occupied," he babbled.

Chris just lifted one eyebrow and pushed upright away from the doorframe.

"I know exactly what Casey's doing." His gaze was cool, assessing as he strode across the open floor to the command console. "I heard you were on a deadline," he added as he brought up the holo-display and began to shuffle through the system files with ridiculous ease. Ezra bit his tongue, stifling an irrational surge of envy at the absolute contrast with the tedium he'd been forced to endure.

_Don't even think about getting into it now_ he silently counseled, _just finish what you started_.

"Ten minutes at the most and I'll be out of your hair," he said out loud, already moving as the `[access denied]` message was replaced by a much more welcome, login screen. "I'll be gone before you can say parsimonious."

There was silence from the other side of the room as he logged on again, and he had to bite down hard on the inside of his lip to hold in the questions that'd been building all day. Questions like "What were you thinking?" and "Why didn't' you tell me?" and "Do you really care so little?" Questions that he quite possibly had no business asking.

He was starting to wonder if he hadn't been foolish to open himself up the way he had. Perhaps he'd do better to regain his distance. If Chris had found himself a new friend to play with in Tanner, then Ezra wasn't about to dignify the situation by drawing attention to it.

He worked his way through the last sector without taking his eyes from the screen, but it was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, the weight of Chris's intense scrutiny burning like a brand between his shoulder blades.

Despite his awareness of the other man, he still jumped at the sound of approaching boots, and when Chris's hand landed warm and heavy on his shoulder, he flinched.

"Ezra--- "

He jerked, trying to dislodge the weight -- _please, just let me finish_ \-- then closed his eyes in resignation and let his hands fall to his lap as the chair was spun around.

"You going to tell me what's eating you?" Chris asked, voice low and raspy, and Ezra's eyes flew open. Chris was standing so close that their knees bumped. There were small lines of tiredness crinkling the corners of his eyes and a deep, frowning, furrow creased his brow.

Ezra squirmed, literally, and tried to press back against the console to give himself more space. He really did _not_ want to have this conversation now. Not when he couldn't even sort out his own chaotic thoughts, let alone pursue a logical train of thought.

"I heard you had a stowaway to deal with," he tried, grasping at the first thought that came into his head and aiming for a diversion.

"Transported him straight back where he came from," Chris shot back. "Don't change the subject."

Ezra's irritation surged and he struggled to smooth his features. He didn't like giving anything away -- far better to show the bland unconcern he knew was expected. When he spoke he was proud to hear no trace of tremor in his voice. "How nice for you. Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do."

Chris just stared him down. "Casey said you were snippy," he said.

Snippy? _Snippy?!_ Ezra sucked in a deep breath and did his best to stay calm.

"I merely have an appointment that I can't get to until I finish..." He searched for an appropriate word, but in the end resorted to waving his hand in an explanatory gesture at the console, "... this."

It hardly covered the sheer scope of the work he'd been engaged in but it would have to do.

"Ezra..." Chris began again, then stopped mid-sentence and his hand tightened on Ezra's shoulder. It was heavy and warm through his shirt and he could feel each individual point of pressure at the end of Chris's fingers where they pressed against his muscle. He made a show of checking his watch.

"I have less than thirty minutes to complete the work required to undo the damage of today, get myself home, and prepare to present an acceptable face to my colleagues. Who--" he raised an eyebrow and made a point of making eye contact, "--you know full well, can sniff out the slightest pretence. I don't have time for this now."

That should have worked -- most people were intimidated by Ezra's disdain, but Chris had unyielding down to a fine art and, apparently, no intention of being diverted. His mouth set into a firm line and his eyes narrowed.

"Well, you're not alone there," he said. "I'm tired, it's been a long day, and to top it off that goddamn stowaway made a mess of my shuttle."

When Ezra looked closely, he could see that Chris's face was smudged with dirt and the strain of what had undoubtedly been a trying day.

_Well, tough,_ he thought, _I've had a trying day, too_.

"Of course, how incredibly selfish of me to be thinking only of myself. By all means, you should retire and I'll just get back to this exceptionally stimulating work."

He jerked to his feet, which was somewhat of an error of judgment, he realized, as the chair scooted away and he wound up trapped between Chris's wiry body and the console.

Chris straightened perceptibly and put both hands on his hips. "You weren't joking about being melodramatic, were you?"

Ezra's jaw fell open and he hissed in a tight breath. "You think that's helpful? When what I need---" He broke off mid-word when his personal communicator chimed a message alert, the individual tone of the District Controller instantly recognizable.

"Well, this day just keeps getting better and better," he muttered and took a step to the side out of Chris's personal space, apprehension uncoiling in the pit of his stomach. He fished the device out of his inside pocket and checked the display. Personal contact from his District manager never boded well.

Ezra turned back to the console just as the 'auto-run complete' tone sounded and verified that the data run was done.

_Thank all that's holy for that._

"I need to return this call." He brandished the communicator over his shoulder. "Via a secure channel."

There was no reply and he was forced to turn around. Chris shook his head.

"New security protocol -- base system functions, including comm., are locked down until Casey gets up here to release them. And I'm pretty sure she's up to her armpits in shuttle parts right now."

Ezra frowned, momentarily speechless. "You gave that... that... child, exclusive control of the command codes? Are you insane?"

"Casey's hardly a child, Ezra, she knows this system better than I do. She has the command codes because she's been upgrading the security protocol."

"I see, and this excellent new security protocol is the reason why I can't make a _secure_ call?"

Chris just tilted his head and grinned, far too delighted by the situation. "System registered an intruder. Can't have just anyone using the comm. channels till the all-clear's verified."

"And that will be... ?"

"Relax, Ezra. You can use the channel in my quarters, it's isolated from the main system."

Ezra managed to resist rolling his eyes, not in the mood for Chris's games. "It's encrypted?"

He wasn't about to ruin everything at the last minute through carelessness. The last thing he needed right now was for anyone, especially his Controller, to pinpoint his location.

Chris just raised an eyebrow and Ezra wanted to wipe the sardonic smirk from his mouth.

"Of course it is," he muttered as he turned on his heel and left the control deck in the familiar direction of Chris Larabee's personal quarters. "What a foolish question."

 

*~*~*~*


	3. Chapter 3

_"... Are you certain, Advocate Standish? Because if I find out you let that locator booster out of your sight, I'll not only have your licence, I'll make sure you're locked up somewhere cold and damp. Indefinitely. Understood?"_

"Yes, ma'am." Ezra closed his eyes and tried to calm his thudding heart. "I'm absolutely certain that booster never left my sight. In fact, I have it in my hand right this second."

He opened his eyes and stared at the innocent looking device, knowing that on some intangible level, the weight of it in his hand and the act of looking right at it would lend the required sincerity to his voice. The secret to a successful bluff, after all, was to make sure that every lie was wrapped in at least 95 percent truth.

_"All right, I'll take your word on it. The Baultans have no evidence aside from a primary scan, which apparently now shows to have been a false read. I'm not prepared to take that as evidence against you."_

Ezra's surge of relief evaporated when the door slid open and Chris strode in.

"The most flimsy of evidence, I agree," he said out loud, mind on the conversation but his eyes glued to the _Clarion_'s Captain, who spared him a single glance, then stripped off his shirt and went into the bathroom.

Ezra dragged his attention back to the irritated voice at the other end of the communicator and risked a little embellishment.

"I've heard the Baultans experience this kind of problem more frequently than most, given how finely they run their scanner calibrations."

_"Don't play me, Standish,"_ his Controller admonished. _"I'm well aware of the excessive right-wing paranoia of the Baultan Administration, but you don't exactly have a spotless record yourself. Let's stick to the facts, shall we?"_

"Yes, ma'am."

Ezra was suitably chastised, but he couldn't stop the small smile that played around his mouth and he was glad he wasn't using a holo-phone. His District Controller was a tough old bird who had more talent for dealing with Administrative idiocy in her little finger than he could hope to attain in his lifespan, but she had a soft spot for anyone who could cut through the crap and just get the job done. Their relationship had had its rough spots over the two years they'd worked together, but she always backed up her people. A trait he'd been counting on to get him over any hurdles his after-the-fact cleanup might generate.

"I've finished my work here now," he said, when the silence drew out. "I was planning to be home in time for the Advocate's dinner, but if it will help clear up the situation at all, I can come straight to the office?" He made it a question, aware that it was to his advantage to make the decision hers.

_"No. I'd rather you stay where you are while I sort out this mess. If I need to contact you, I don't want to find you're reduced to particles somewhere and out-of-contact. You can forget the dinner, I'll register you as an apology."_

"Certainly."

Ezra checked his watch, not sure whether to be annoyed or relieved. The Controller did sound slightly mollified, to his profound relief, and it did mean he had his alibi now without having to rush halfway across the galaxy to achieve it. Unfortunately, he was now stuck, indefinitely, on Chris's ship.

He heard a tap shut off in the bathroom and risked a glance toward the door. It remained solidly closed, so he dragged his attention back to the disembodied voice. _"...expect to see you in my office first thing Monday. Don't keep me waiting."_

"No, ma'am, and thank you."

He stared down at the location booster in his hand until the chime of a disconnected channel sounded, then in a fit of pique threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a resounding thud, then rattled across the floor and skittered to a stop -- right at Chris's feet.

His very naked feet.

_Well, that's just charming!_ Ezra closed his eyes and sucked in a tight breath.

In that one quick glance, he'd seen that Chris wore nothing more than his beige traveling pants. Which, Ezra knew from personal experience, were made of leather as soft as butter and molded to his legs like a second skin.

There was a faint sound, as Chris cleared his throat, and Ezra's eyes flew open.

"Don't you start." He pointed an accusing finger, not in the mood for excuses. "I can't imagine there's anything at all you could say right now that would be helpful."

Chris just spread his hands wide and said nothing. He didn't need to; his face was the most ludicrous mix of guile and feigned innocence Ezra had ever seen. God, but he was exasperating. Ezra turned and strode the distance to the other side of the room, then paced back.

Despite his best efforts at diversion, it looked like they were having this conversation now, and he didn't know where in the hell to start. He hated feeling this way -- hurt, and angry, and, yes, betrayed. He deserved better than for Chris to consider him a mere tool for the successful implementation of his plans. He came to a sudden halt less than three feet away from Chris with no idea where that thought had come from. He'd never previously thought that Chris owed him anything, let alone an explanation of his actions.

As the seconds ticked away and still Chris remained silent, Ezra silently examined him. He'd washed the dirt from his face and neck -- Ezra's eyes followed the trail of a drop of water that ran from his hair and down the long column of throat to the well-muscled chest -- but some dark smudges remained, and those stood out in stark contrast to his pale skin. In some places, he seemed to have merely spread the dirt wider rather than clean it away. Ezra's eyes slid lower, over fine chest hair and taut nipples, and his hands itched to reach out and touch...

He dragged his eyes back up to Chris's face only to see his mouth beginning to curve with a knowing smile. Ezra made a frustrated sound and turned away.

_Christ. Am I so easily distracted?_ He bristled, spine going stiff with resentment. _Since when do I lose my train of thought just because Chris-goddamn-Larabee is standing in front of me in nothing more than his pants?_

Finally, Chris did move. He covered the distance between them, his feet whisper quiet across the floor. Ezra was so attuned to him he might as well have been wearing combat boots. When he came to a standstill, he was close enough that Ezra could feel the heat from his body.

"Ezra." His hand again ghosted onto Ezra's shoulder in a mirror of his earlier gesture, but this time it was more than just a solid weight; it was almost like a brand, hot and heavy even through the layers of shirt and jacket. "Tell me what's going on." His voice had a seductive quality to it, one that encouraged surrender.

Ezra's skin flushed in reaction and he felt a momentary stark disconnect between what was going on in his head, and what was happening to his body. The weight of Chris's hand made his body tighten with awareness and his heart raced. When one thumb caressed the nape of his neck, every hair stood on end as though he were plugged into an electrical circuit.

On a purely intellectual level, he was intrigued by his physical reaction. But on a psychological level, he saw red. Was that all there was to this, an undeniable physical chemistry rather than anything more? Rather than melt into Chris's touch, as he normally would have, he spun around, dislodging the caressing hand. He didn't want to be mollified, or pandered to, or to hold back any longer.

"It's entirely your fault that I'm even in this situation," he snapped.

Chris just let his hand fall and returned Ezra's gaze. When he spoke, his voice was calm and controlled.

"And what situation is that?"

"Oh, you know," Ezra retorted, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. "The one where someone I thought I could trust neglected to tell me anything of importance about the mission he commissioned me to go on; and the one where I consequently escaped from the Baultan holding center by the skin of my quick-thinking teeth. Not to mention the one where my District Controller is now breathing down my neck trying to ascertain why my locater booster was used in a snatch from said holding center. Ring any bells?"

A flash of what could have been regret flickered over Chris's face before he schooled it back to its normal inscrutable mask. He shifted his weight.

"So, yes, let's talk," Ezra ground out, gripping the nearby dresser with one hand. "How about you start? I'd love to hear an explanation for why you saw fit to lie about exactly what I'd be getting myself into today?"

"I didn't lie," Chris shot back. His voice, his body language, his entire manner projected complete certainty, as though the notion of anything less than the truth were inconceivable.

"Oh, excuse me," Ezra drawled, his grip on the dresser tightening. "What would you call it then? A lapse? An oversight? I know -- how about a cavalier omission of vital information?"

Chris was irritated. It was obvious by his deepening frown and the tight set of his shoulders as he turned and walked away.

So, he didn't like having his word questioned? Well, tough, if he wanted an unquestioning sycophant as a business partner, then he should have chosen someone other than Ezra P Standish. Ezra bit down on the inside of his lip, determined not to be the first to speak. He deserved an explanation and there was no rule that said he had to make it easy.

The silence drew out to the point where the air felt as thick as molasses and Ezra could feel the sweat form on the back of his neck with the effort to stay silent.

Chris finally spun back and when he spoke, his answer was devoid of even the smallest trace of remorse. "Everything worked out all right in the end," was all he said, and if that wasn't the biggest cop-out Ezra had ever heard, he didn't know what was.

He choked off a disbelieving laugh.

"All right?" he finally managed. "You call that all right? Then I'm afraid we have vastly differing perceptions of what that means."

"You're here, aren't you? Without any damage I can see. And you delivered on the contract so you'll still get paid."

Ezra's mouth fell open in surprise at the blunt response. "I can assure you that my concerns extend to more than just remuneration, although if you think that's all there is to it, then perhaps there really is nothing further to be discussed."

"That's not what I meant, Ezra, and you know it." Chris's eyes flashed as he bit out the response. "But if you want to leave, don't let me stop you."

Ezra held himself perfectly still. It seemed he had his answer to exactly where Chris Larabee stood when it came to their relationship.

"I've just been ordered not to use a transporter," he said, "so I'd say the chances of my leaving are virtually nil, wouldn't you?"

Chris's spine stiffened and he threw up both hands. "Then take the goddamn shuttle if you're that desperate! Heaven forbid you should be forced to stay a minute longer than necessary."

"I see. Then excuse me and I'll locate Ms Wells and get out of your way."

He made to walk past, heart pounding, but Chris swore under his breath and put out a hand to stop him. "Damn it, Ezra. Cut it out."

He didn't have much choice but to stop, the hand on his arm like a band of steel, but when he stared pointedly at the fingers that wrapped around his bicep, Chris swore again and let his hand drop.

"Goddamnit!" he said, running the offending hand through his hair. "You can be the most infuriating man. Look, I'm sorry. If that's what you need to hear, then I'm sorry. But I won't pretend I didn't do what I thought was right."

Ezra blinked slowly and, as the seconds drew out, he realized with sudden clarity, by the way Chris held his ground and glared, that he not only didn't understand Ezra's reaction, he clearly thought he had nothing to apologize for.

Ezra took one step away, then another, and before he knew it he was on the other side of the room. Distance was good because he really couldn't think with Chris so close, and before he spoke he really needed to sort this out in his own head.

He stared down at his hands and swallowed hard. "As I've already said, there was no need to lie to me. All I required was enough information to take sufficient precautions."

"And as _I've_ already said, I told you as much as I could."

Ezra's temper flared and it was a relief to let it flow out into his voice and posture, let it fill the space between the two of them. Far better to show that than anything more ...vulnerable.

"As much as you could? It was a dangerous situation and you sent me in there exposed." He stopped, intending to say nothing more, but the hurt welled up in his chest, displacing the anger, and the words escaped before he could stop them. "Do you really care that little?"

"Goddamn it, Ezra!" Chris's face was tight, but along with the furious rage there was something else there that Ezra couldn't identify, something more brittle. "How can you ask that? It's _why_ I couldn't tell you."

Ezra completely lost any ability he'd had to follow the convoluted logic.

"Now you're talking in riddles," he snapped. "You think I'm some helpless amateur who needs your protection? Save me the insult."

"Of course I don't," Chris returned with equal acerbity, "but I know you, Ezra. Sometimes you get so caught up in the con, you push too far." He moved forward as he spoke until he was in Ezra's space, his eyes holding Ezra's so powerfully that he couldn't have looked away if he'd wanted to.

"You saw what the detention center is like. Can you honestly say, if you'd known what you were heading into, that you wouldn't have tried to set up something more elaborate -- maybe even carry that pea-shooter stunner you're so fond of? You know what the Baultans do to people who disrespect their code."

His proximity was unnerving and Ezra replied quickly, dismissing the notion. "Oh, please, I'm not that foolish."

Chris just studied him, considering. "Not foolish, Ezra," he finally said, his tone gentling, "foolhardy, maybe; inclined to take dangerous risks."

Ezra didn't want to be soothed like a recalcitrant child, and on top of everything else, he didn't need to have his professionalism questioned. "Did it ever occur to you that, if you'd just given me the same information you had, I would have made the same decisions you did?"

"Would you?" Chris asked, demanding honesty. "If you'd known what you do now, would you have done everything the same?"

It was a lost cause. Ezra couldn't hold onto his anger with Chris so close, could barely think straight.

"Yes. No. All right, you have a point," he said, flustered, trying to regain his ground, "but I can't work with you if you don't trust me."

"It has nothing to do with trust, Ezra. There wasn't any time. Vin's chip only had a limited lifespan and we had to get him out of there before they did another routine scan. We were out of options."

Chris reached out, his hands incredibly warm on Ezra's shoulders and Ezra was suddenly intensely aware of how often Chris touched with intent. "I wouldn't have sent you at all if I could think of an alternative; I chose you precisely because I _do_ trust you." One hand moved up to cup the back of Ezra's neck, and a rough thumb traced the angle of his jaw. "Ezra, the only way this plan was going to work was by doing it fast and keeping it simple. You've seen the Baultan set up now, tell me you disagree."

Ezra closed his eyes and dragged in a breath. On some level he understood the argument. Maybe he would have set up something more complex if he'd known Vin was Andarchic and maybe the Baultans would have seen through the ruse if he'd used a less established identity, and it didn't bear thinking about what would have happened had he been caught carrying a concealed weapon. The thing was, he'd never know now because the decision had been taken out of his hands.

He was still trying to process the information when Casey's voice crackled into life over the comm. channel. "Captain Larabee, can you come to the shuttle bay, please?"

Ezra stiffened and Chris made an impatient sound. "Not now, Casey," he snapped.

Ezra kept perfectly still and when the channel activated again, it was the rough timbre of Josiah's voice that filled the room.

"I think you're going to want to see this, Boss."

Chris swore softly under his breath and his hand tightened on Ezra's shoulder. "All right," he said. "Give me a minute."

When Ezra eventually opened his eyes, it was to find Chris closer. His breath stuttered when Chris cupped his face with both hands. "Ezra, this was important to me. I chose you because I needed the best. Don't doubt that for one minute."

Wordlessly, Ezra stared into clear hazel eyes, the light brown specks around the dilated pupils seeming to change and glow with some inner emotion. Then Chris licked his lips and bent his head to bring their mouths together.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was possessive, claiming and when it was done and Chris whispered against his mouth: "Wait for me here?" Ezra could only nod.

Chris turned and strode from the room, pausing only to slip on his shoes and grab his shirt from the chair by the door, then Ezra was alone.

In the sudden silence of the cabin, he touched a shaking finger to his mouth, and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do now.

 

*~*~*~*


	4. Chapter 4

For a long time after Chris left, Ezra didn't move. His mind seemed stuck in a loop, replaying everything that had been said in a desperate effort to gather together the threads of understanding. But he was hopelessly missing every important detail, to say nothing at all about any shred of information about who Vin Tanner was and why he was so important.

He was so drained that trying to connect his thoughts was like trying to string beads onto a thread of quicksilver -- he no sooner identified a point of relevance than it slipped elusively away from his comprehension. By the time he finally gave up he was no closer to understanding than he'd been at the start.

He needed to work out what game Chris was playing, but whenever he thought he was getting close to understanding, it was only to have the rug pulled out from under his feet.

It took him a while to realize just how long he'd remained standing there, motionless between the bed and the door, and how exhausted he was. A dull ache across the top of his shoulders shot tendrils of pain up his neck, and his back and legs were stiff and hurting. To say nothing of the solid weight of tension and restless unease that had settled under his rib cage.

In the end, he gave it up as a bad joke and headed for the bathroom.

The hot water was like a balm. It warmed his skin even while it failed to touch the small, confused place inside him that was too exhausted to process Chris's excuses. Instead, he closed down every thought except those connected to the pleasure of the sharp needles of hot water that beat down onto his shattered body.

He knew he needed to eat, but he couldn't even bring himself to exert that much effort. Instead, he dried off quickly and crawled into Chris's bed, unable to think through just what that might provoke, should Chris return before he woke.

_Rest first, deal with everything else later,_ was his final thought as sleep claimed him, dragging him down to a blessedly still place where nothing else mattered.

 

*~*~*~*

 

He was already surfacing from a deep, dreamless sleep -- some inexplicable sixth sense registering the presence in the room -- when the soft, but firm, "Ezra," brought him more fully awake.

He was lying on his side, one hand tucked under his chin, and when his eyes slid open Chris's face was at eye-level. He struggled to make sense of it, his brain too slow to catch up with his body, still caught in that strange state of heavy languor caused by too little sleep.

Chris moved slightly and Ezra blinked, remembering he was in Chris's bed and realizing Chris was crouched by its side, one hand on the covers, the other resting on his thigh. There was something dark and compelling in his eyes and Ezra couldn't look away, didn't want to lose his connection with those deep, swirling depths.

Finally, Chris lifted a hand and dragged a rough-thumbed caress over Ezra's cheek, leaving a trail of tiny aroused nerve-endings in its wake. Just like that, Ezra's body flooded with heat and arousal, his heart rate ratcheted higher and his breath stopped in his throat. His eyelids dropped in reaction and a needy, intense sound escaped his throat.

The thumb continued moving against his face and when he opened his eyes, it was to find Chris had moved closer. He could only watch, wide-eyed, as Chris shifted his hand to tilt Ezra's head and with the slightest pressure near the angle of his jaw, brought their mouths together.

Ezra sank back into the pillow and let his eyes flutter closed, the firm caress of Chris's mouth and the way their tongues tangled chasing the last remnants of sleep away, pushing his desire higher. He needed to get closer, but just as he started to push upright to find a better angle, the caressing hand slid down his neck to his shoulder and pushed him back until he was lying flat on the bed.

He had no will to resist; he just went with the unspoken instruction and brought his own hand up to tangle it in Chris's hair, holding them as close as possible. When Chris pushed the covers aside and slid his body over Ezra's, the pressure was delicious, and every inch of his skin flushed and tingled in reaction.

God, it was good, so good -- the pressure of Chris's lips, the determined sweep of his tongue and the tantalizing weight of him pressing Ezra firmly into the mattress---

Ezra groaned again and arched his back, moving and adjusting position as he tried to maximize contact.

_No shirt_ was the only thought he could summon when his hands drifted downward over Chris's shoulders and back and he felt bare flesh, but Chris wasn't completely naked either -- when Ezra's hands slid lower, it was to find the soft warmth of body-hugging leather.

Chris was moving, too, smooth, languid shits of body weight and position that made Ezra desperate to increase the pressure where he needed it most. He pressed his hips up into the weight above him and Chris, still seemingly attuned to his need, ground down at the exact same moment. Ezra wrenched his mouth away with a whimper.

"I've got you," Chris murmured next to his ear, then licked a long stripe down Ezra's neck and came to a stop, sucking and biting at the sharp ridge of his collarbone. The pressure was perfect as Chris dropped his full weight down, increasing the contact of their bodies from chest to thigh, then slid his hands down Ezra's arms to tangle their fingers. As Ezra panted and arched his neck, Chris anchored his hands either side of his head, pressing them firmly into the bed.

"Look at me," he demanded, levering his upper body away, and Ezra forced up lids as heavy as lead.

Chris stared at him intently, then shifted down. Holding eye contact until the last second, he bent his head to Ezra's chest and sucked one full nipple deep into his mouth.

_Oh god!_ Ezra's eyes slammed shut and his back arched, pushing the over-stimulated nub further into Chris's mouth; every sound, every movement, every breath asking for more.

A spike of sensation shot from his nipple to his groin as though there were an electric current that ran between the two.

So good.

So _good_.

Ezra wanted to touch, he _needed_ to touch, but Chris held him firmly and continued to suck and bite at his chest. Ezra twisted his hands and wrists trying to get free, and the sensation of being restrained, of being controlled, only shot his desire higher. Chris made love with his whole body -- mouth and hips and hands -- the very weight of him sent Ezra's need higher and higher until he was aching with it.

_"Chris."_

More than a name, it was a groan, full and rich and dragged up from a raw, vulnerable place deep in his chest. Chris's reaction was instant. In one fluid movement, he released Ezra's hands and rolled to the side. Ezra couldn't move, couldn't summon the effort required to so much as twitch a finger, and he watched through half-lidded eyes as Chris undid his pants and ripped them off. When he finally rolled back, Ezra opened his legs wide to settle him between them and bring their groins into full, delicious contact.

"Oh, god," he groaned again, when Chris wrapped a hand around his hard length and started stroking, moving his hips in the same rhythm, rubbing himself off in the deep crease between Ezra's hip and groin.

"Ezra," Chris groaned, face buried in the side of Ezra's neck, but Ezra was caught up in his own head, entirely focused on the arousal that built and swelled until his body was shaking with it. When Chris's thumb scraped over the weeping head of his penis, he came hard, eyes shut tight and gasping for air.

He lost track of time -- floating in a dark, boneless place where all he could hear and feel was the pounding of his heart, the blood rushing in his ears, and the heavy weight slumped over him. When his head cleared, he pushed at Chris's solid shoulder trying to work at least his chest free so he could breathe.

"Chris," he rasped, pushing harder, trying to elicit a response.

"Sorry," Chris finally mumbled and flopped away to the side, his own chest heaving with the exertion. But he left one hand in the middle of Ezra's chest and when he turned his head back, his face was split by a ridiculous grin.

"So, I guess you're awake now," he said, his hand moving slowly over Ezra's skin.

"Perceptive." Ezra somehow found the energy for sarcasm, and to lift his own hand to tangle with the fingers on his chest.

Chris reached out over the side of the bed and grabbed his discarded shirt. He swiped it roughly over his abdomen then held it up in offering, his smile widening.

"I think not."

The mind-blowing orgasm was no excuse for acting like a caveman, but even so, as Ezra pushed upright and headed for the bathroom, his brain was only working at half capacity.

The sight of himself in the mirror woke him up in a hurry. Skin flushed, hair all over the place, he looked debauched. He closed his eyes briefly and rested both hands on the sink. How inevitable that he'd be jerked back into the reality of his situation so quickly.

He turned on the tap and filled his hands with water, splashing it over his face to cool skin that burned with the memory of just how quickly he'd succumbed to the frenetic passion.

It had always been like this between them. Never easy, but always heat and sparks that inevitably resolved into sex. Good sex, great even. Chris was an attentive and creative lover, and it was quite something to be the focus of his intensity.

But this time had been different. This time he could almost feel the manipulation -- Chris had put him at risk for a purpose known only to himself and now he wanted Ezra to forget it. And even worse, this time Ezra couldn't pretend, even to himself, that it was just sex and nothing more. Surely this wouldn't hurt so much if there was nothing there?

He let go of the vanity and straightened, avoiding his own reflection, not wanting to acknowledge his dawning realization that he was in much deeper than he'd thought. He hated this feeling, of being out of control, of someone else having so much power over him. Of caring so much. How had he not realized that he cared so much?

He picked up a washcloth and wiped impatiently at his stomach and chest, then studied himself closely in the mirror. A deep flush reddened the skin high on his cheeks, and there were marks and rough abrasions from Chris's mouth and stubble over his neck. His eyes were strangely dull and uncertain, nothing like the relaxed and happy man who should have looked back at him, given the bone-melting sex he'd just enjoyed.

He didn't know what to think. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Theirs was supposed to be a casual relationship, something he and Chris did for entertainment when they had the time. Something he could just walk away from when their needs no longer coincided. What was he thinking to allow himself to become so helplessly connected to a man like Chris Larabee?

He dried off, then walked quietly back to the bed and slipped between the sheets. Propped up on one elbow, he studied his sleeping companion. Chris had fallen asleep exactly where Ezra left him -- features finally slack with the release of tension; the familiar deep lines around his eyes seemed to have lessened and only his rough stubble attested to a recent lack of sleep.

Ezra trailed one finger lightly down a muscled forearm thick with coarse blond hair, but it was his own body that shivered with the contact. He didn't know how he'd wound up here, but he knew that he couldn't be the person Chris seemed to need -- a man who could hold himself apart, who would follow instructions without question or concern, and trust, unthinking, like an innocent child.

His heart clenched with anticipated loss and he let his hand fall away. Better to get out now before he wound up losing who and what he was to someone else's need. He couldn't do that, not even if that someone was as compelling and challenging a companion as Chris Larabee.

 

*~*~*~*


	5. Chapter 5

Ezra slumped back into the shuttle's pilot-chair and roughly massaged the crease between his eyebrows. Running off in the middle of the night wasn't an ideal way to deal with anything much, really. It certainly wasn't doing anything for the exhaustion that made his head pound, and every cell in his body feel as though it had been drained of its vital energy.

He let his hand fall and jerked upright, eyes going instinctively to the console to check the shuttle's navigation readings. Wouldn't it be just perfect if he were to drift off course because he didn't have sufficient wits about him to monitor his own position?

When he was satisfied that everything was as it should be, he pulled out his personal communicator and checked the message log one more time. Nothing. He sighed heavily -- would this day never end?

It would have been so much easier to do this through sub-space, to just jump from the _Clarion_ to the transfer station and then home. But it wouldn't take much more to push his Controller over the edge and he wasn't willing to risk the consequences of being unavailable. The way things were going right now it would be just his luck she'd make the effort to contact him during the miniscule amount of time it would take to execute the series of controlled jumps required to get home.

No, direct flight it was. Direct, tedious, time-consuming--

The shuttle's comm. channel crackled to life and his stomach flipped as Chris's voice filled the small space.

"Going somewhere, Ezra?"

So much for a clean getaway. The distance did nothing to mask Chris's irritation. Ezra sat up straight and stared at the console, allowing the silence to draw out. He could always _not_ answer, but what would be the point? It was obvious Chris knew exactly who was piloting the craft.

"I make it a point not to wear out my welcome." Ezra deliberately kept his own tone bland and indifferent, doing his best to project unconcern.

Chris would be pissed as all hell that he'd left in the middle of the night and without the slightest goodbye. He'd be even more pissed that his ploy of distraction-through-seduction had failed. The worst thing Ezra could do would be show any sign of weakness.

"So you thought you'd steal my shuttle," came the rejoinder, and there was no attempt to fake indifference now. Chris was definitely pissed.

"It's hardly stealing."

It was, technically, the truth. Ezra got to his feet and paced in the small distance between the console and the bulkhead, the combined frustrations of the last 24 hours making him reckless. "If I recall correctly, you said, and I quote, 'take the goddamn shuttle if you're in that much of a hurry'."

He was being provocative, he knew it, but before he could say anything more, Chris spoke over the top of him and what he said was so unexpected that the shock of it sucked the air right out of Ezra's lungs.

"A what?" he croaked and backed away from the console.

"I said, that was before I found out someone wired a tracker with a charge attached to it to the shuttle's nav controls." Chris articulated the words slowly and carefully as though speaking to an idiot.

For his part, Ezra could only stare at the panel in disbelief. A charge? In the shuttle?

"Ezra, the next time that shuttle makes a hyper-jump, the charge is set to blow the navigation controls."

Ezra froze, his heart in his mouth. What did that mean: "blow the navigation controls"? How the hell would he get home if he had no navigation controls?

He sucked in a breath. He knew a little about explosives, and it was possible that a charge set to detonate with a particular action would not explode otherwise. Maybe he was safe if he didn't jump anywhere. Or was that just wishful thinking? His heart sped up and perspiration beaded on his skin as he searched through the possibilities.

And what the hell had Chris been thinking to leave a live charge in the shuttle? Among the myriad questions crowding into his mind that was the one that made its way out his mouth.

"You knew this, and you left it there?"

"Yeah, well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Josiah nearly ripped his arm apart making sure it didn't explode in the ship, and Casey _was_ running a back-trace to locate the receiver."

Ezra could hear the effort Chris was making to hold onto his temper, every word forced out through gritted teeth. "I wanted to know who messed with my goddamn shuttle and I wasn't exactly expecting _you_ to steal it in the middle of the night."

"Oh, for--- I didn't steal it!" Ezra exclaimed reflexively as his breath stuttered back into his chest.

With a sudden harsh squawk the comm. channel static cut out and Ezra's heart skipped a beat. For long minutes he hovered in the doorway to the command bay, his eyes sweeping the control panel. Nothing looked out of place, but then he wasn't a shuttle engineer, so how would he know if any of the indicator lights were new or unusual? The shuttle had seemed to run well enough. He took a tentative step forward and jumped when the comm. came back online.

"Ezra." It was Chris's voice again. "Casey's going to send you the flight plan for the Theran station. You're less than one astro from there, so it's your nearest diversion point."

Ezra sucked in another breath and pressed the heel of his hand to his chest. His heart was beating so fast that he could feel it thud up into his throat. He frowned, processing Chris's instructions. _Should_ he head to a populated station if the shuttle was wired?

"Just how big is this charge?" he asked, wary.

"Not big enough to damage anything but the nav controls, maybe the shuttle console." Chris's reassurance came instantly. "Even if it does blow it, doesn't have the power to damage much else."

"That's _so_ reassuring," he muttered as he edged his way back to the controls.

"Transmitting flight data now, Ezra."

Casey's voice broke in before he had a chance to reply and it was reassuring to know she was on the case. Casey Wells might be young and sassy, but she knew her stuff. "I don't want to interface with the flight controls, so I'm sending the information in a packet and you'll have to reprogram manually. Maintain your current speed and you should be there in fifteen. Just ... make sure you don't, you know, jump anywhere."

Ezra grinned, despite himself, suddenly grateful for the quirk of fate that'd restricted him to normal flight. As a means of sabotage, the rigged charge was inspired -- had he jumped the shuttle at all, he would have simply disappeared into sub-space and never appeared again. The thought made him shudder and he approached the console with care. He wasn't out of the woods yet, but the shuttle wasn't going to fly itself. Casey's instructions scrolled across the screen and he moved to upload the new data, careful not to touch anything he didn't need to.

When the confirmation tone sounded and the ship's readout showed he was tracking a new course, he breathed a sigh of relief and stepped away again. "Thank you, Ms Wells, course adjusted."

"No problem, Ezra. We have you on display and will track you to the station. Try to stay out of trouble." The channel static faded out and the cabin was silent again.

Ezra scanned the controls, continuing to look for anything out of the ordinary. When his personal communicator sounded, he started so badly the adrenalin surge almost brought him to his knees. Hand shaking, he pulled it from his inside pocket and stared at the display.

His Controller -- with impeccable timing, as always.

Calming his thoughts, he activated the device.

"Ezra Standish."

"Congratulations, Standish." The unruffled voice was so incongruous compared to his own tension that he had to stifle an hysterical laugh. "I'm not sure how you managed it, but it looks like you're off the hook. You can go about your normal business."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied when he had his voice under control.

His profound relief, on the heels of his previous terror, was debilitating and he slumped into the nearest chair. But the channel remained open and he could hear background voices - it seemed he wasn't off the hook yet.

"Standish."

"Yes, ma'am."

"There's been a change of plan for Monday. One of the Lyran worlds has trouble with a civil rebellion and they need a Senior Advocate to sanction processing. There's a full caseload and it's likely to drag on, so get yourself organized for an extended stay. You can collect the travel details Monday."

"Yes, ma'am." He couldn't help the sigh this time and he hoped it wasn't audible. The Lyran system was out in one of the farthest reaches of the Galaxy, far away from any populated hub. To send him there for an extended stay was a less-than-subtle punishment.

The channel crackled once, then cut off into silence and he slumped a little further into the pilot's chair. His head ached something fierce and he was starting to feel nauseous through lack of food and sleep.

Still, it wasn't all bad. He _did_ at least have the opportunity to go home first -- he turned his head to glance again at the blinking lights of the control console, hoping he wasn't getting too far ahead of himself in that assumption - and at least he'd be far enough removed that he could keep his mind focused on the job, rather than on the mess he seemed to be making of his personal life.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Ezra frowned into the reconstituted cup, then took a tentative sip of the dark brown liquid.

He'd always considered himself a patient man; his mother had drummed the benefits of careful planning and cautious execution into him from a very young age, and most of the time he was in full agreement of the benefits of hastening slowly. But the last 24 hours had seriously tested his resolve when it came to waiting ... and his tolerance for stale coffee.

"Positively toxic," he muttered, then dumped the whole thing in the nearest disposal unit.

Outside the plexi-panel observation port, ships of various sizes came and went from the station on a continuous schedule without regard for any particular day/night cycle. Two star-class cruisers and a handful of smaller vessels were visible from this angle alone and that was only a fraction of the ships in action. The Theran System might be more off the beaten track than on it, but it was the only space-based station in the region so its activity was frenetic.

Ezra rolled his neck and checked the time once more.

Station Control had been understandably less than thrilled to hear about the booby-trapped shuttle, so they'd allocated a remote docking bay. Of course, the system precautions for "shuttle that might explode at any minute" required an isolated sector -- without transporters -- so it had taken him more than forty minutes to walk the entire way from the shuttle to the central sector. He'd fully expected that Chris would be waiting, displaying the irritation that had come through loud and clear in their last communication, and chafing at the bit to get his precious shuttle home.

_To say nothing of chewing a hole in you for leaving so suddenly,_ a small insistent voice in his head muttered and his traitorous body shivered in anticipation.

But he'd heard nothing further from the _Clarion_ since he docked, and no matter how many times he scanned the crowds, he'd yet to set eyes on a familiar face.

At least he'd been saved the boredom of waiting in the shuttle itself. Still, it was more than time that---

"Ezra!"

Casey's voice was so welcome that he felt a smile spread over his face as he turned.

"Ah, finally," he said. "I was starting to think you'd taken the scenic route."

"Things to do, places to be. It's not all about you, Ezra," Casey quipped back. A cheeky grin split her face, but Ezra barely noticed. Instead, he stared at the large figure of Josiah who loomed behind her.

"Evening, Ezra."

Ezra inclined his head without speaking, eyes darting past the big man and around the room, but all he saw were strangers.

He was ridiculously, foolishly, and unaccountably disappointed that there was no sign of Chris Larabee.

 

*~*~*~*

 

"I won't be going back with you." Ezra dragged his attention back to Josiah as he spoke, away from where he'd been watching Casey deal with Station control. She appeared to have them wrapped around her little finger, so handover of the shuttle transfer authority seemed a mere formality.

Josiah's eyebrows rose but, in typical fashion, his voice remained perfectly bland and reasonable. "Well, Ezra, I'm pretty sure when Chris said 'bring back the shuttle,' his expectation was that you'd be coming with it."

Ah, yes, Chris and his expectations. Ezra shrugged one shoulder, disinclined to cooperate. At this point in time, he was more annoyed with himself than anyone else, but if he was going to take a independent stance anywhere, it might as well be here.

"Just because Chris has an expectation, it doesn't mean it will magically come to pass. I'm sorry, but it seems that, in this instance, he's destined for disappointment."

Josiah's chuckle was full and rich and his grin wide. "Oh, no need to be sorry. I'm sure he'll handle it the way he does every other disappointment that comes his way." It wasn't hard to hear the invisible quotes around the word disappointment.

Eyes narrowed, Ezra examined the other man. Josiah's cryptic commentary could be puzzling at the best of times, but on top of everything else he'd endured that day, it was quite simply irritating.

"If that's meant to be reassuring, Mr. Sanchez, I'm afraid it misses the mark."

This time, Josiah laughed outright, and Ezra almost stumbled when the weight of the big man's hand landed on his shoulder.

"You're a grown man, Ezra," he said. "It's not my place to tell you what to do."

Ezra bristled and took a step back, relieved when Josiah's hand fell away.

"Quite," he retorted. "Although, given recent events, it would appear you're somewhat alone in that realization."

"Hey, guys, you ready to go?" Casey was, as usual, unnecessarily cheerful.

"Ezra's working tomorrow, he's heading home," Josiah explained and Casey looked from him to Ezra and back again.

"Oh." She sounded nonplussed, but Ezra didn't feel like explaining.

"Best of luck with tracking down your saboteur," he said, turning away. He'd already arranged a transport slot, but any swindler could bribe their way to the front of the line and--"

"But didn't Josiah tell you?" Casey interrupted his thought. "We have the data. It's only a matter of time till we track them down."

That was unexpected; Ezra's curiosity got the better of him. "Well, that's quite remarkable. What did you do, pluck it out of thin air?"

Casey rolled her eyes and waved a hand dismissively. "No, come on, it was easy. The tracker was tracking _us_."

Ezra's lack of comprehension must have shown on his face and she burst into an excited explanation. "Okay, what's the one thing we always know about the _Clarion_?" she paused for effect and when Ezra blankly returned her stare, her grin widened.

"_Exactly_ where we are at any given point in time, _and_ where we've just been. All we had to do was work out which relay station the transmitter was sending to and then record all of its outgoing transmissions. When we find the patterns that match our own coordinates, we'll be able to see where they're going. It's just like a ping-back!" She made it sound as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I see," Ezra dutifully responded, not really seeing anything, but doing his best to not sound too stupid. He needn't have worried, Casey was on a roll.

"The trouble is that the relay station only transmits in bursts, so the data packets are huge. Which means we need a much more powerful number-cruncher than we have on the Clarion to analyze it. Captain Larabee's been working on some contact he has - that's why he's not here, and-- Actually--" she turned to Josiah as if only now remembering he was there, "--we'd better get going."

"After you, ma'am," Josiah responded, gesturing obligingly toward the exit from the space station's central hub, then he turned to wink at Ezra as she strode away.

"Never pays to keep a lady waiting, Ezra," he said. "Hope your business works out for the best."

"You and me both," Ezra muttered to their retreating backs.

So Chris did have a reason for not being there himself, and it apparently had more to do with the shuttle saboteurs than it did with Ezra.

For some reason, that didn't make him feel the slightest bit better.

 

*~*~*~*


	6. Chapter 6

Ezra carefully folded his clothes and placed them into the carrier, the warm, soft texture of each garment a pleasurable distraction from his disquiet. Most people would deem his affinity for clothing made from natural fibers a ridiculous extravagance -- it was, indeed, a pleasure he went to considerable lengths to indulge -- but he considered it more a matter of superior taste than pampering, and he wasn't about to lower his standards for the sake of convenience.

Why should he, anyway? Since when had he become so caught up in other people's concerns?

_Since you met someone whose opinion you actually care about,_ the annoying voice in his head whispered.

Damn. He sealed the final layer and triggered the lid with more force than necessary.

In less than a Standard Galactic day, he'd be settling in for an extended stay in one of the Galaxy's most remote systems, so it was pointless to devote even a fraction of a millisecond to dwelling on what might have been. He would _not_ think about Chris Larabee any more.

He activated the carrier's hover mechanism and guided the unit into his living room to join the small collection of bags already in the corner. He'd been so out of sorts when he arrived home that he'd started to pack straightaway and hardly paused. It was disconcerting to realize he was almost done, and with a full twelve hours to spare.

"Because you're just so dedicated to your job," he muttered, sarcastically deriding his own efficiency.

Six months ago he _would_ have packed with enthusiasm in anticipation of the challenge ahead. He'd been more single-minded back then, before Chris Larabee sauntered into his life and rearranged his perceptions of what was important with a single curve of his sinful mouth. How had he allowed himself to get so distracted?

Disgusted with his own maudlin attitude, he turned his back on the bags and activated the wall unit's holo-display. The more techno covers came up first and he flicked by them to the classical works, searching for something to soothe his fractured mood. Ah, the Pantesertz collection. He made his selection and the quiet swell and fade of the #47 Concerto for Medlin and Siku filled the room.

The piece was perfect. The siku's light, almost woody tone as it danced against the medlin's deeper, strumming pitch a study in contrasts that usually enabled him to concentrate on the music, and switch off from what troubled him. The last movement, with the progressive addition of more instruments, their voices building one by one until the piece reached the final booming crescendo, could leave no doubt of Pantesertz's genius.

But tonight the brilliance of the piece's construction was lost on him; rather, it seemed to feed his restless energy. He prowled around the room as the music rose and fell, his hand drifting restlessly across the spines of the antique books on his shelves, and tried to think of anything other than his growing awareness of the emptiness in his chest. Eventually he stopped at the window and stared blindly into the night, staring through the random patterns of rainwater on glass.

The jarring sound of the door chime wrenched him back into the room.

"Oh, for... Just a minute," he raised his voice slightly as he went to answer, the sound continuing in one long, demanding note. "It's late and I really don't have the time for..."

The activated door swept open, and his words dried up completely. It wasn't his anticipated annoying neighbor, who would take any opportunity to drop by and ask a 'learned' opinion; instead, Chris Larabee loomed large on his doorstep.

Ezra's first reaction was shock that he'd somehow conjured Chris's presence with his introspective thoughts. But once he got a good look at the man that was rapidly displaced by worry that something awful must have happened to bring him here in this state. Collar turned up, his long, dark coat dripping with water, Chris looked like a half-drowned mali-cat. His hair, soaked to a dark color and plastered to his head, even had that more-fur-than-hair look to it. He must have walked miles in the downpour to end up so soaked.

They stared at each other, and when Chris didn't immediately articulate some dire event, Ezra relaxed slightly. He cleared his throat and nodded at the hand that still hovered over the door chime.

"I think you've made your point."

Chris grunted, and shoved his hand deep into his pocket, then hunched further into his coat as the steady tone faded. He still didn't explain his presence, just stared at Ezra from under hooded eyes as though his reason for being there should be obvious.

Ezra could only blame the familiar deep lines of tiredness etched around Chris's eyes and the way he shifted his weight in a small, uncharacteristic display of uncertainty, for finally stepping back and opening the door wider. He liked to think that if Chris hadn't looked so completely wrecked, he'd have held his ground and politely suggested he take his black mood elsewhere.

As it was, Chris took up his silent offer and stepped inside, and Ezra couldn't stop himself from pressing back against the wall in an effort to avoid actual contact. As a tactic, it sucked - the smell of damp fabric combined with Chris's body-heat and unique scent as he brushed by, sent Ezra's senses into overdrive.

For long moments, they both stood in the entryway until Ezra manually triggered the door to close. He cleared his throat again, feeling strangely nervous.

"I don't know why--" he began, but broke off as the loud, climactic, crash of the Pali drums interrupted, heralding the final movement of the concerto.

Chris raised one eyebrow, his lips quirking in what might have been amusement as the tension broke, and Ezra rolled his eyes.

"Excuse me," he managed, and pushed past, holding his breath. He could almost feel Chris's eyes on him as he crossed to the holo-deck and hit the mute.

The silence that followed was, by contrast, unnerving, and he had to steel himself to turn. But although Chris had followed him into the living room, he wasn't paying Ezra any attention. He'd stopped by the pile of bags, his forehead creased and his lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line, his face holding no trace of amusement now.

"If you don't mind..." Ezra began, then paused as intent hazel eyes swept up to meet his. "I'll just get something to take care of ... that." He waved a hand vaguely at the water that still ran off the long coat and spotted the carpet.

It was all he could do to not run out of the room. What on earth was Chris doing here? He'd had ample opportunity to catch up with Ezra at the Theran station and not acted on it, so what did it _mean_ that he'd come here now? Of course, he hadn't said a word since he walked in the door, which was typical -- a man would need the senses of a Bolani thief to know what Chris Larabee was thinking -- so Ezra was left, as always, scrambling to interpret.

Chris had shrugged out of his coat when Ezra returned with a towel, and he silently took the wet garment to hang it in the evaporator. Desperation had him calculating the time it would take it to dry and he cranked the setting up to the highest level, choking back a nervous laugh at the concept of shoving Chris out the door the second his coat dried.

When he came back it was to find Chris still standing in the middle of the room. He'd obviously used the towel to dry off his hair and it stood on end in a crazy tangle that made Ezra itch to run his fingers through it. He tightened his hands into fists.

"It's late, would you like a drink?" he asked.

Chris's frown deepened and his eyes flashed with something powerful. "Yeah, Ezra," he replied, and Ezra shivered as the familiar, challenging drawl rolled over him. "I came all this way for a drink."

"In the absence of any other information, one can only assume." Ezra busied himself with pouring whiskey into two glasses, making sure to keep his back to the room and his hands hidden so as not to give away his nervousness.

"Ezra--" Chris ground out, voice low and husky.

Ezra had never heard quite that tone in Chris's voice before and it did strange things to his insides. He turned and thrust the glass out as a distraction. "Here," he said, carefully avoiding eye contact.

When Chris scowled, then accepted the glass, he let out a shaky breath, realizing his error too late when their fingers brushed. Chris's physical presence was overwhelming and the touch of skin against skin totally derailed his thoughts. He snatched his hand back and, as soon as he could, walked away to the other side of the room.

He wasn't sure what he expected Chris to say but when the silence drew out and he finally summoned the courage to look up it was to find Chris staring not at him, but once more at the bags, caught in an introspective thought Ezra had no insight to.

"You're packing," was what he eventually said.

"I... Yes."

What else could he say when it was obvious? "One of the Lyran worlds seems to have developed an urgent need for a Senior Advocate." He waved a hand in the general direction of the stars, the universe, and everything. "I'm nominated."

Chris pursed his lips. "Lyra? That's--"

"At the outer reaches of the known universe, yes. My Controller does have a remarkably dry sense of humor."

The silence drew out again and Ezra bit his tongue, uncomfortably reminded of a similar confrontation not 24 hours ago, in Chris's cabin on the _Clarion_. That hadn't ended at all well, and Ezra had no reason to believe this would be any different.

To make matters worse, Chris was obviously tense, his shoulders stiff and tight and his jaw clamped shut as though speaking would be actually painful.

_This is new_, Ezra thought with the same kind of hysterical edginess he'd have if he'd somehow managed to corner a dangerous animal. _He actually seems uncomfortable._ Far from being reassured, the realization only made him more anxious and he braced himself for what might come next. He really didn't need to have Chris come right out and tell him he'd read more into the situation between them than he should have.

"I'm not going to play games with you, Ezra. I want to sort this out."

Ezra's stomach flipped and he took refuge in denial. "Sort what out? I've merely received new orders. It's all perfectly reasonable--"

"Ezra," Chris interrupted, not buying it. "Are you gonna pretend that sneaking out in the middle of the night had something to do with your job?"

"I did not sneak!" Ezra's heart was pounding. He didn't want to talk about this, he really didn't, not when he couldn't imagine any good outcome. When Chris's frown focused into an interrogative glare, he continued quickly, without thinking: "I merely left without waking you. Besides, you seemed to be fully occupied with Mr. Tanner's concerns. I'd only have been in the way."

Chris seemed to be genuinely puzzled. He cocked his head and ran a hand through his hair. "Vin? What the hell does Vin Tanner have to do with this?"

Right, apparently denial went both ways.

"Please," Ezra scoffed. "I'm neither blind nor stupid. Although it's none of my business who you choose to develop an interest in."

"An interest? Ezra, I hardly know Vin Tanner."

"Oh. I see. So that appallingly hazardous rescue was all for a man you hardly know. That makes it _so_ much better." Ezra sucked in a tight breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, inexplicably weary. "Look, I'm quite capable of recognizing when it's time to move on, I don't need to be told."

"What?" Chris paced away then turned back, gesturing in frustrated enquiry. "Is that why you left? You think I'm interested in Vin Tanner?"

"I don't have to think, it seems obvious."

Chris's eyes narrowed as if in sudden comprehension, and a strange, almost calculating grin twisted his mouth. "I see. You'd rather leave before you're asked, is that it?"

Ezra's throat closed up and he turned away; he couldn't bear to be ridiculed. If he'd had any doubt at all about how he felt about Chris Larabee, it had disappeared the minute he'd seen the man on his doorstep and every word spoken since then had been just one more nail in that coffin.

The weight of the silence between them was so heavy it pressed on his chest like a physical force, restricting his breathing, and he was so totally attuned to where Chris was, he could almost hear him breathe; would have sworn he felt the air shift when Chris crossed the room and walked up behind him.

"That's really fucked-up thinking." Chris's breath ghosted over Ezra's ear, raising goose bumps on the back of his neck.

"Yes, well, experience is a powerful educator," Ezra muttered, heat flooding his face.

He'd lived with the fear of rejection all of his adult life -- and wouldn't a psychotherapist have a field day with that -- and having his greatest fear spoken out loud only made matters worse. Maybe the disconnect between what he wanted and what he thought he could have was so great it was sending him crazy.

"Ezra." Chris's hands, warm on his shoulders, turned him around before he could work himself into any more of a state, and he had to fight not to twitch out of his grip. But when Chris finally spoke, his voice held a serious tone that Ezra had rarely heard.

"I've never been good at explaining myself..." he began, and Ezra had to choke back a snort. As if anyone who'd known Chris Larabee more than five minutes would need to be told that. "...most of the time it's not important -- better to just do what needs to be done, let the results speak for themselves and not worry about the details."

Okay, so _now_ they were talking about the Baultan mission? Ezra cleared his throat. Maybe it was time to for a few home truths.

"Sometimes the devil is in the details." He heard the bitterness in his own voice and enjoyed it far too much when Chris flinched.

"I'd made up my mind not to come here tonight," Chris finally said, and his shoulders were rigidly stiff, his body language strangely uncomfortable. "If you want to leave, it's not my business, but you made me understand there's two sides to every story. And if you're gonna run out on me, then you'd better be goddamned sure it's for the right reasons."

Ezra's head jerked up - him running out on Chris? Surely it was the other way around? He searched Chris's face and with a shock realized he couldn't remember ever seeing him so unsettled. A muscle twitched in his jaw and his eyes had taken on that more green than hazel intensity that normally indicated strong emotion. As he watched, Chris shook his head, seeming to be frustrated by having to search for the right words.

"Ezra, I'm not interested in Vin Tanner. I'm interested in you."

Ezra wanted to look away, but he couldn't. He'd never expected to have his newly realized feelings returned, but it seemed that was exactly what Chris was offering. He had no idea what to do with the admission. He searched Chris's face for any trace of deception, and finally felt a faint trace of optimism when all he saw was a familiar fierce determination.

"I believe you," he finally said, gratified by the way Chris's hands tightened on his shoulders in response. Chris rarely put his feelings into words, but the slight flutter of his eyelids at Ezra's statement gave away his awkward relief. Tentative warmth unfurled deep in Ezra's belly, but he squashed it ruthlessly. He couldn't, in all honesty, leave it there. Not if he wanted to be able to look at himself in the morning.

"But I don't think I can be the man you seem to want. I can't just follow blindly without questioning or needing to understand. I'm afraid if I do that I'll lose myself, and that's something I just can't countenance."

He tried to disentangle himself, but Chris was having none of it. "You think that's what I want?" he asked, hands tightening still further on Ezra's shoulders. "Ezra, have you looked in a mirror lately? Do you think if I wanted an unquestioning lackey I'd be within ten miles of you?"

Ezra blinked, the words stopping him in his tracks. Chris wasn't a compromising man, that much was true, and Ezra, well, he wasn't exactly conciliatory. He frowned, puzzled by the gentle tone and its underlying determined strength that meant Chris knew what he wanted and wasn't about to back off.

"I don't know. I thought...." he trailed off, caught by the belated realization that this was actually an apology, and at that, a damn sight better one than the token effort he'd received earlier.

His thoughts must have shown on his face because Chris shook his head, his smile more genuine, and took the single step needed to bring him right into Ezra's personal space. He let go of Ezra's shoulders and Ezra's stomach clenched as Chris reached one hand up. The fingers that ran down the side of his face to his neck, then down to the hollow where neck met shoulder, were rough and cold, and raised goose bumps in their wake.

"I've told you what I want, Ezra." Chris's voice was whisper soft against his cheek and Ezra shivered. "Now you need to tell me what you want."

He still didn't really know what he thought, or wanted to say -- that he did care? That he cared too much? That the way his feelings had grown and developed scared him more than he could ever say? He searched Chris's face and for once it was completely open, his emotion clearly revealed.

Ezra's defences crumbled. As the exploring hand slid round to the back of his neck to tease the hair at his nape, Ezra let his eyes fall closed.

"I want you to stay," he whispered, feeling as though he'd stepped off the edge of a cliff.

"Then I will," Chris breathed against Ezra's mouth.

 

*~*~*~*

 

They didn't even make it to the bedroom.

Ezra would have pulled away from that first, searing kiss -- because sex in a bed was so much more _ordered_ \-- but Chris never did give him time to control anything. He crowded Ezra back against the nearest wall, and had his shirt open, in seconds.

_Oh!_

Chris's mouth was relentless -- it burned a hot trail down Ezra's chest while his hands fumbled at the fastening of Ezra's pants. The rasp of his knuckles against the soft skin of Ezra's belly caused the muscles to flutter and contract, and his arousal flared to a point where he could hardly breathe, could feel every touch like a brand and every beat of his heart in his _fingertips._

Chris finally freed Ezra's cock and slid to his knees closing his mouth over it, and Ezra buried his hands in still damp hair, desperately controlling the instinct to thrust right down his throat. Chris had never sucked him off like this before, with a heat and intensity that verged on devotion.

"Chris," he groaned, trying to concentrate and string words together. Lights sparked behind his closed eyelids as Chris's mouth slid up and down his shaft, and swelled into bursts of pleasure deep at the base of his spine as Chris's tongue traced rough patterns up and over the head.

_"Chris."_ Jesus _God,_ if he got any harder he'd explode.

He let his head fall back against the wall and concentrated hard on keeping his knees locked. This was absolutely not the time to wind up in an inglorious heap on the floor, although the way Chris was focused on his task, it likely wouldn't slow him down.

Ezra felt something slide into Chris's mouth, right next to his cock, but his brain was misfiring on an overdose of pleasure and he couldn't process what Chris was doing right _now_ let alone what he might do next. It wasn't until he felt a wet finger trace between his ass cheeks and around his hole that he made a belated, fuzzy connection.

_"Oh, yes."_ He tried to spread his legs further apart, only to be frustrated by the tight band of his pants just below his ass. Chris sucked on his cock hard -- once, twice -- then pushed his finger right in, the added stimulation firing Ezra to a point of pure bliss. When Chris pulled his mouth off and replaced it with his hand, Ezra came so hard he literally saw stars.

"Christ," he panted as he slid down the wall, his orgasm flooding over him in wave after intense wave. He finally fluttered his eyes open to see Chris had caught his come in one hand and was using the other to open his own pants.

"Turn around," Chris grated out, voice rough, and Ezra scrambled to comply. He felt limp and uncoordinated, every muscle quivering; his hands shook as he pushed his pants further down his thighs and braced his palms against the wall. He had a brief glimpse of Chris preparing himself with Ezra's ejaculate and he shivered like a winded animal.

Chris slid straight into him, the stretch and burn against his already raw nerves spiking his arousal again and making him gasp.

"I've got you," Chris murmured next to his ear, right before he sucked the lobe into his mouth. One of his hands cradled Ezra's softening genitals possessively and the other wrapped tight around Ezra's chest, holding them together as he pressed in again and again.

Ezra curled his fingers against the wall, panting, riding a wave of release and endorphins that verged on euphoria. Every single touch of skin against skin felt magnified, the coarse slide of Chris's pubic hair against his buttocks, the five points of contact where Chris's fingers pressed into his chest, the sharp stab of teeth when Chris bit down on his shoulder.

Just the feel of Chris in and against him, surrounding him like a living blanket, set something dark and glorious loose inside him. The intensity was incredible, the edge of pain bordering on exquisite and he wanted Chris's marks on him. Wanted to remember and feel and ... god... it felt like he was breaking in half...

When Chris finally stiffened and came, his weight slumped on Ezra's back and they both slid into a loose heap on the floor.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Ezra couldn't see Chris's face from this angle, but his voice sounded grim. "How serious is the damage?"

They'd finally made it to the bed -- via the shower, because Chris's skin had been pebbled with goose bumps by the time they finally hauled themselves up off the floor, and his hands had been like ice. Now they were lying twined together in Ezra's favorite post-sex position -- him tugged up close to Chris's side, his head in the crook of Chris's shoulder and their legs tangled.

Despite the bone-melting sex, or perhaps because of it, Ezra didn't have the energy to hold on to his worry and disappointment any more. They'd all survived the Baultan assignment in the end, and it was unlikely any of the accusations would stick. He could afford to let this one go, for now at least.

"Well, Edward Smith, sadly, is persona non-grata," he offered, tracing an idle pattern over Chris's forearm where it lay, lax, on the bed. "I won't be able to use him again without setting off every flag in the system. I did manage to scramble any connection to my own DNA, made it show as a faulty scan, and I've retrieved most of the assets I'd ascribed. But it's hardly my best work. If I'd had the opportunity to pre-plan..." He bit his tongue, not willing to finish the thought and spoil their last moments together.

"So, you're clear?"

"I believe so, but I may have to keep a low profile for a while. I always did maintain that linking identity to DNA was a dreadful idea."

He twisted his head and ran his tongue over Chris's nipple, smiling when it contracted into a tight peak. But he was exhausted and holding up his head was hard work, so he relaxed back into his previous position, continuing to trace the inked patterns on Chris's forearm.

"You never asked about that," Chris eventually broke the long silence, and Ezra knew he was referring to the intricate design that Ezra's wandering finger traced.

"No."

He never had, although of course he'd noticed the tattoo. It was an Andaran pattern, that much he knew, but Chris wasn't the type to encourage personal questions, so he'd held his tongue. When Chris shifted and sucked in a breath, Ezra knew this time was going to be different.

"My wife, Sarah...." Chris stopped and cleared his throat, then started again. "Sarah-- was Andaran. Our son, Adam, was Andarchic. He was five when he-- when _they_ died."

Ezra stilled his finger from its repetitive trail, shocked by the revelation that Chris had had a wife and an Andarchic child, and that both were dead. Some of the missing pieces of the puzzle that was Chris Larabee fell into place.

Chris shifted his arm out from under Ezra's neck and used his own finger to take over tracing the pattern, as if it helped him speak.

"This tattoo? It's Sarah's clan symbol. Andarans traditionally have them tattooed on their bodies and those who marry into the clans can do it as a symbolic gesture." Ezra bent an arm under his head and watched the tracing finger, intrigued.

"I had this one done when Adam turned five and it was time for him to be marked -- he thought it was cool that he was having the same tattoo as his dad, even if his was up here." Chris pointed to the side of his face, the place where Andarchic tattoos were customarily placed.

He lifted his arm again and tugged Ezra back in close. "He was a great kid, Ezra. I hated the idea of doing that to him, but he was registered, so we had no choice. God, when he was born, there was no time to plan anything and we had no idea what it really meant to have an Andarchic child. We had him registered and went along with the law because we didn't know... "

It was easy to hear the proof of the loving father Chris must have been back then, underlying the recrimination. Ezra had never really thought about it before. Andarchic tattoos were... accepted. Standard practice. If he'd thought about it at all, he'd have probably said they were decorative, even attractive. This was the first time he'd ever really considered how barbaric the practice really was and his stomach contracted with a newfound revulsion. Chris's son had still been a baby...

"You must have been proud of him," he murmured.

"Yeah." It was only a whisper of a word but it held a wealth of loss. Ezra moved his hand to rest on Chris's chest and deliberately didn't look at his face -- if Chris was going to bare his soul, then he could at least give him the illusion of privacy.

"When they died, I went a bit crazy. I heard a rumor that the bastards who killed them were connected to Andaran right-wing politics, that Sarah was targeted because she was pregnant and we'd decided to hide the child... " Chris's voice was heavy with bitterness and it caught on the last word.

"Sarah was a strong woman, Ezra, she just wanted to protect her kids, and she swore she wouldn't put another child through everything that Adam was going to have to face. But we were stupid -- she wanted to tell her family and I didn't have the damn sense to stop her. They still hold the traditional beliefs and hiding a child like that would mean cutting all ties with the family and the clan. Her father never forgave me. He was so damn furious, said it was my fault for putting radical ideas into Sarah's head."

"Does this have something to do with Vin Tanner?" Ezra finally asked with a flash of insight, turning his head to press a kiss to the muscle under his cheek.

"Yeah. It didn't take much looking around and talking to people to figure out that the Drifters would be a good place to start. They seem to walk a line between most of the radical groups, but they're elusive bastards. I'd been trying to contact them for months with no luck, and then there Vin was, right in front of me." Chris huffed out a mocking laugh. "After all that time searching, it didn't take him more than a couple of hours to just come right out and tell me who he was and why he was there, and the next thing I knew he was about to end up in the goddamn Baultan detention center. I couldn't leave him there, Ezra. He put himself at risk to help us out, and I need him. I need to know who's responsible for what happened to my family."

He pulled back and Ezra looked up at his face, his heart clenching to see the raw emotion it revealed; Chris only lost his composure when he cared deeply about something or someone. When he spoke again, he didn't meet Ezra's eyes and his voice was harsh with self-blame. As always, Chris Larabee held himself to a higher standard than he would anyone else.

"You were right, I could have told you more. I guess the only reason I didn't was that there was no time to think it through and I--"

"It's all right," Ezra interrupted, his own worries diminished to insignificance. "You made the best choice you could. That's as much as anyone can ask."

Chris made a small sound in the back of his throat and rolled to put Ezra underneath him, his mouth hot as a brand against Ezra's throat.

When they were done and Chris slept, Ezra held, and was held, and watched night turn to day through the curtains.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Ezra sank back in his Superior Class seat and closed his eyes. At least his Controller had agreed that the distance he had to travel warranted some comfort.

He slipped a hand into his inside jacket pocket and drew out the small, flat package Chris had handed over when they parted at the transfer station. "I want you to take this with you," he'd said just before he'd squeezed Ezra's hand tight and disappeared into the crowd.

Ezra released the seal and lifted out the small device. He turned it over, puzzled. Some kind of electronic device, it was about twice the size of his thumb and fit snugly in his hand. Its cover was a smooth metalloid that seemed to absorb the light and it had a data port at one end.

He could only blame the fact that this must be a newer, smaller model than those he was familiar with, for the fact that it took him a good five seconds to realize what it was -- a personal router. Tuned to Chris's chip, it would facilitate an instant private connection outside of network channels any time Ezra chose. It was as close to a statement of personal commitment as they came.

Ezra swallowed hard and let his head fall back, curling his fingers closed over the device as though it were the most precious gift in the world.

If he needed any further proof that Chris shared his new awareness of what was between them, he had it now.

 

 

\---the end---

**Author's Note:**

> Notes for the Universe are [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/65728).
> 
> This is a completely open AU. So if you see something you'd like to explore, feel free to jump right in. No need to ask if you want to write something, but if you let me know, I'd love to read it! While this particular story is Chris/Ezra, the universe itself is open to all pairings and genres.
> 
> All feedback and comments loved!
> 
> Other stories in this AU:
> 
>   *   
> [Drifter -- the foundation story.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7531)  
> 
>   
> 
>   *   
> [Befriended by the Moon - prequel to Drifter (Vin/Chanu)](http://www.write-em-cowboys.com/stories/befriended.htm)  
> 
>   
> 
>   * [Drift Currents - an out-take of All That Remains (Vin/Josiah)](http://ms-artisan.livejournal.com/64890.html).
>   
> 



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